


Hawaii

by happy_waffles



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, also the title is very lame..., but that's literally what I titled it on Tumblr too lol, i love this ship so much, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 07:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16192841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_waffles/pseuds/happy_waffles
Summary: AU where the trip to Hawaii lands Mishima a boyfriend.





	Hawaii

“Yes! We’re here! Hawaiiiiii!”

As usual, Sakamoto was a bundle of energy. Like a kid on a sugar buzz, he kept pointing things out (“Ann, look at that weird fruit!” “Would keep it down, you idiot?! And that’s a ‘hala fruit,’ by the way. Don’t you know _anything_?”), was _way_ too loud (not even Niijima’s glare could shut him up), and kept flitting about here and there around the hotel (“Stay with the group, Ryuji,” Niijima flatly tells him, pulling him back by the collar of his shirt, her patience evidently running thin).

Only Kurusu seemed to be amused by Sakamoto’s hyperactiveness. Mishima was slightly lagging behind the group, but even he could still see the small smile on Kurusu’s lips as the black-haired boy watched Sakamoto try to squirm out of Niijima’s iron grip.

Mishima feels a twinge a sympathy for his blonde classmate. It doesn’t look like Niijima’s letting go of him anytime soon.

“I am SO embarrassed,” Takamaki says through gritted teeth, covering her face with her right hand in an attempt to block all the curious stares.

“Let’s just get to our rooms,” Niijima suggests, dragging a squirming Sakamoto behind her.

“In that case,” Sakamoto pipes up, “I wanna room with this guy.” He points a thumb at Kurusu.

Mishima’s feels a slight pang in his chest. He tries to shrug off his disappointment, but it clings to him anyway. _Of course those two would pair up…,_ he thinks to himself bitterly.

Niijima shakes her head. “You can’t room together. You two are from different classes.”

Sakamoto frowns. “Why does that matter?”

“It complicates roll call.”

Takamaki snorts and looks at Sakamoto over her shoulder. “I bet there aren’t many people who’d be okay rooming with _you_.”

“Shuddup! We _both_ stick out like sore thumbs!”

The two argue some more, but Mishima stopped listening a while ago. Niijima’s words were still ringing in his ears, filling him with hope.

“Kurusu,” Mishima says softly.

Immediately, Kurusu slows his pace and turns to face Mishima. “What’s up?”

“Is it…Is it okay if I roomwithyou?” Mishima says the last part of his sentence too fast (he almost chokes on the words) and his heart seems to be beating a thousand times per second, but he _did_ it. He actually asked him.

Kurusu flashes him a smile. “Of course.”

…

Mishima didn’t think this through.

He knew he wanted to hang out with Kurusu more and he’s extremely happy to have snagged him as his roommate, but…

What the heck were they even supposed to talk about?

Kurusu’s just sitting there on his bed, aimlessly fanning himself with the collar of his white shirt. ( _Shit_. He’s bored, isn’t he??)

Mishima can feel his stress levels rising.

He _really_ didn’t think this through.

He tries to think of something, anything, to say.

“We can finally take a breather…”

Kurusu nods. “After all that attention and drama with Ryuji,” he says, laughing as he recalled Makoto’s face as she dragged Ryuji around, “I definitely needed one.”

 _Not_ _a_ _bad_ _start,_ Mishima thinks, laughing along with Kurusu. _But now what…?_

And like a panicking idiot, he goes to his go-to topic: the Phantom Thieves. He sighs internally.

“Oh, by the way, you know how the polls for the Phan-Site’s ranking started, right?” (The words just pop out his mouth. He really couldn’t think of anything else to say.)

Kurusu gives him a curt nod.

“It’s been really lively, huh?” Mishima starts playing with his hands, clasping them, unclasping them, and then clasping them again, but harder this time. “I’m the one who made the website, but even _I’m_ surprised.”

Kurusu says nothing. ( _I’m really boring him, aren’t I? Think of something else to talk about!)_

But of course he doesn’t. He keeps on plowing through about the Phantom Thieves.

“Oh, and did you hear about Akechi, that detective against the Phantoms? The good-looking one. His popularity seems to have plum—“

“Mishima, I’m kind of tired,” Kurusu cuts in, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Oh.” Mishima tries to swallow the burning lump in his throat. “Yeah, okay.”

Kurusu stretches and then leans over to turn off the lamp on his side of the bed. Yawning, he peels off his long-sleeved shirt, neatly kicks off his shoes, and heads off to the bathroom.

When he comes back, he unceremoniously flops onto his bed and mumbles a “Goodnight, Mishima” into his pillow.

“Goodnight,” Mishima mumbles back, shuffling over to the bathroom with his pajamas in hand.

Closing the bathroom door, he lets his head rest against it, a long sigh escaping his lips.

Day one, and he was already doing terribly.

…

By the time Mishima wakes up (which is around 11:30, so not too late), Kurusu’s already gone, his bed neatly made and a note left on their shared desk.

Mishima picks it up. “Meeting up with Ryuji and the others for breakfast,” he reads. “I’ll see you later. Oh, and don’t forget to eat, too, Mishima. The PhanSite can wait. From, Akira.”

While Mishima can’t help but feel a _little_ disappointed that he wasn’t able to spend his morning with Kurusu, the note also leaves him feeling lightheaded. _Don’t_ _forget_ _to_ _eat_. That meant Kurusu cared about him…Right?

Jeez. He can already feel the dumb smile on his face.

Mishima decides to order up some breakfast (he didn’t want to disappoint Kurusu) before digging out his laptop from his mess of a suitcase (packing was seriously harder than it looked).

With the speedily delivered croissant sandwich in one hand and the other hand clicking away at his laptop, Mishima settles himself in for another day of skimming, cleaning, and tweaking the PhanSite. There was always trolls to delete, requests to sort out, polls to add…

Within minutes, he was pulled into his work, madly clicking and typing away at his laptop.

…

“..ish…ma.”

For some reason, there was a slight buzzing in Mishima’s ear. He ignored it, though. He had more important things to think about—like getting rid of these damn trolls. Man, were they persistent!

“Mish…i..ma.”

Was that…his name? Wait, no, it didn’t matter. He was busy. Very busy. Now that he’s cleaned up the site a little, he should start checking out the requests…

“ _Mishima!_ ”

Suddenly, his gaze is pulled away from his laptop and positioned towards Kurusu’s face instead.

“K-Kurusu…?!” Mishima sputters out, his face burning. _He’s too_ _close_ …!!

“Did you eat?” Kurusu asks sternly.

“A little,” Mishima answers, looking anywhere but at Kurusu, whose eyes sharply took in the phanboy’s neglected breakfast.

“Didn’t I tell you that the PhanSite could wait?”

“Yes, but—”

“Mishima, how long have you been on your laptop?”

“Since…I woke up…so, 11:30.”

Kurusu shakes his head. “It’s already 6. You should take better care of yourself more.” He pauses a little here, a look of uncertainty on his face, but quickly continues with his speech. “And if _you_ can’t do that for yourself, then… _I’ll_ do it for you.”

_Huh?_

“Whah,” is all Mishima can say. He’s shocked over the turn of events, confused on what exactly Kurusu’s declaration meant, and overwhelmed by the sensations of the raven-haired boy’s hands cupping his cheeks.

Kurusu doesn’t seem to mind the lack of a proper response. His mind was already set.

“First, we’ll clean up this mess of unfinished food you left,” he says out loud, moving to pick up the plates. “And then we’re going to have some fun in the sun.”

…

Apparently, “fun in the sun” meant parading around the hotel beach in swim shorts. Which really wasn’t Mishima’s cup of tea, especially with so many people milling about.

But, then again, he’s being treated to a full view of a scantily-clad Kurusu, complete with touseled hair (who comes out of the water looking _that_ good??), the surprising appearance of developing muscles (did he work out?), and a continuous set of blinding smiles and heart-fluttering laughs (just seeing Kurusu’s smile made him weak, but his laugh straight-up _decimates_ Mishima)…so maybe it isn’t _all_ bad.

Mishima gets so caught up in admiring Kurusu that he forgets he’s currently in a water gun fight with him and proceeds to get a face full of water.

“That’s 10 points!” Kurusu gleefully announces, successfully sidestepping Mishima’s counterattack. “75 more, and I win!”

“You wish!” Mishima snaps back, wiping the water from his face with a grin. “You just caught me off guard—but now, I’m _in_ it to _win_ it!”

…

It was a 100 to 56—Mishima lost by a whopping 44 points.

He lays down on the warm sand, groaning. “You’re too good at this.”

Kurusu laughs (Mishima can feel his heart fluttering already) and flops down next to Mishima (and now his heart was exploding).

Kurusu turns to look at him. “Pay up, loser,” he says, playfully poking at Mishima’s ribs.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mishima casually responds back, playfully swatting Kurusu’s hand away. Internally, though, he was screaming. _He_ _touched_ _me_ , _he_ _touched_ _me_ , _hetouchedme!!_

And for once, Mishima’s grateful of the fact that his skin easily turns red. He can blame his blushing face on the sun.

“So, what do you want?” Mishima asks, his arms stiffly at his sides. (Acting normal around Kurusu was hard sometimes).

Kurusu sits back up, his lips jutted out in deep thought and his finger tapping gently against the sand.

“I want…to continue the conversation from last night.”

“What?” Mishima says, surprised. “You mean the one about Akechi? But I thought you weren’t interested…And anyway, don’t you want something more…well. I don’t know. Something like food or a drink?”

“We can get food _and_ talk at the same time, Mishima,” Kurusu says with a smile. “And last night’s conversation _did_ interest me—but I was too tired at the time to keep talking. That’s why I’m asking that we continue it _now_ , since I’m wide-awake and fully rested.”

“…Ok,” Mishima finally responds, his voice soft, his heart throbbing, and his goofy grin spreading from ear-to-ear on his face.

He looks up, his smile on full display to Kurusu. “But I’m buying the food.”

Kurusu grins back. “Deal.”

…

“…And ever since the Medjed incident, Akechi’s popularity has been up in flames,” Mishima explains, accentuating his words with excited stabs of his fork. “But the Phantom Thieves’ popularity has skyrocketed because of it…the PhanSite’s been flooding with requests ever since then!”

Kurusu rests his cheek against his hand. With the other, he points to Mishima with a spoon. “You really like the Phantom Thieves, huh?”

“Well, they did save me…so I want to do something nice for them, too. I owe them that much.”

“Hmm.” Kurusu slightly shifts in his chair. “Mishima, do you”—and here, for some reason, Kurusu looks away—“have a favorite Phantom Thief member?”

Mishima perks up at the question. Any chance to gush about his favorite was a chance he was happy to take. “Yeah, definitely. I mean, I like them all, but…I like Joker the most. Do you know him? He’s the leader of the group. And he’s just so… _cool!_ His deep voice…his flashy outfit…his smooth movements…Everything _about_ him is cool. And”—Mishima’s voice suddenly becomes shyer now—“he kind of reminds me of _you_.”

Mishima doesn’t even need to check the reflective surface of the table to know he’s blushing like crazy. (Joker reminding him of Kurusu was a big reason why he liked the phantom thief so much in the first place…which he now admitted to Kurusu. Out loud).

“He reminds you of me…?”

“Ah, well…you’re both so, you know, _cool_. And you both have black hair…actually, your physiques are pretty similar, too…And…and now that I think about it, you’d make a great Joker cosplay…”

Jeez. He’s rambling. Mishima can’t help it, though—he’s too nervous to shut up.

It isn’t until Kurusu starts laughing that Mishima dares to look at him.

His laugh was…soft. And he was looking at Mishima with such a… _fond_ expression. Mishima feels his heart fluttering again for the umpteenth time today.

“Maybe I’ll cosplay as him,” Kurusu says in between laughs.

Mishima ponders this. Kurusu in Joker’s tightly-fitted attire, teeth pulling at the fabric of a red-gloved hand, the smirk on his lips being nicely off-setted with the mischievous eyes glinting behind the mask….

“You should definitely do it,” Mishima affirms, breathless and wanting.

“Hmm.” Kurusu pretends to think it over. “For you, I just might.” And then he switches his attention over to his neglected ice cream sundae, which was more like a milkshake now than a sundae, leaving Mishima alone with his thoughts.

And boy, did he have a lot to think about.

First, there was the morning’s incident, where Kurusu had pulled him close and basically said ‘I’ll take care of you.’ (Thinking about Kurusu’s hands cupping his cheeks was making him blush all over again). And then there was all those little accidental brushes during their water fight…And all those soft looks he gave Mishima…and now the husky way “For you, I just might” was said was replaying in his head (His face was on fire by now)…

Was…was Kurusu _flirting_ with him?

Mishima shook his head.

There was just no way…

Right?

…

By the time they head back to the hotel, the sun was setting and the air was growing cooler. Mishima’s thankful for the cool breeze—he’s pretty sure his skin was on fire from not only the sun but from all his blushes today.

Now that they were inside the brightly-lit lobby, Kurusu takes one look at Mishima and laughs. “You put all that sun lotion on…for nothing…!” He’s giggling behind his hand now.

“Shut up,” Mishima says, embarrassed. “If I put any less, I would have been _burnt_ instead of just slightly cooked.”

“You look like…a lobster…!”

“Kurusu, shut _up_.” Jeez, he could feel his face burn even more now.

“I will…in a…bit,” he manages to giggle out.

But he doesn’t stop laughing until they’re safely back in their room and Mishima hits him with a pillow.

“You said”— _whack_!—“you’d stop”— _whack_! _whack_!—“laughing!!”— _whack_!

“Sorry, sorry!” Kurusu laughs, hands out in surrender. “It was just too funny! But I’ll stop now, I promise.”

Mishima hits him with the pillow one more time, for good measure. “You better.”

“I will, I will,” Kurusu sings-songs, slicking his hair back with a hand and smiling up at Mishima from the floor. A bead of sweat was rolling down his bare neck and then slowly dipping onto his exposed chest and…

Ugh. Why did Kurusu have to be so…so… _handsome?_ It was distracting.

“I’m taking a shower first,” Mishima suddenly announces, throwing the pillow back on the bed. “You owe me that much.” (He needs to get away quickly. Before his body reacts even more).

“Hm?” Kurusu pulls himself up from the floor. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

And with that, Mishima quickly gathers up his towel, a change of clothes, and a pair of sandals before heading into the bathroom and firmly closing the door shut behind him.

Whew.

He rests his back against the door, his mind reeling, his face burning.

He’s _so_ glad Kurusu didn’t notice the growing tent on his swim trunks. (It’s a good thing his shorts were the bulky kind).

Just…ugh. Kurusu was just way too attractive that it wasn’t even funny.

…

When Mishima finally steps out of the bathroom, fully-dressed and with a wet towel draped over his head, he’s greeted with the sight of Sakamoto on the couch, animatedly showing Kurusu something on his phone.

“Sakamoto…?” Mishima says out loud, rubbing the towel on his head over his still-damp hair. “What are you doing here?” (He’s kind of relieved Sakamoto’s here, though. He doesn’t think he can handle being alone with Kurusu right now).

“Hm? Oh hey, dude,” Sakamoto responds, looking up from his phone. “I’m here because my jerk of a roommate decided to bring his girlfriend over…and it’s just awkward. I had to get away.” He then does a double-take. “Whoa. Dude, you’re, like, really _red_.”

Mishima was about to snap back with a sarcastic “Yeah, I noticed” when Kurusu cuts in.

“Actually, isn’t he more _pink_ than red?”

Sakamoto laughs. “You’re right!”

Mishima rolls his eyes. “Ha ha, very funny.” He moves over to his side of the room and opens up his laptop. The PhanSite needed its admin. (He hasn’t been on it for _hours_ , now—he’s desperate to see all the new requests. And it’s not like he can join the conversation, anyway).

“Well, now that Mishima’s out,” Kurusu begins, getting up from the couch and slinging a towel over his shoulder. “I’ll go take a shower. See you in a few.”

“‘Kay.”

The bathroom door swings open and then shut.

And now Mishima’s all alone with Sakamoto.

Sheesh, why didn’t he think things through??

It’s not like he hates Sakamoto or anything…Mishima’s just awkward. He could already feel his shoulders tense up from nerves.

_Just don’t think about Sakamoto. Don’t think about how silent it is. Don’t think about how nervous the silence is making you…Just focus on the PhanSite. Focus. Focus. Foc—_

“Hey, Mishima?”

 _Damn_ _it_.

Mishima slowly looks over his shoulder. “What’s up…?”

“Here.”

Suddenly, Sakamoto throws something at him. Mishima fumbles with the item for a few seconds before finally achieving a firm grip on it. He looks down at his hands to see he’s holding a half-used tube with the words _Sun_ _Relief_ _Lotion written on it._

“Use that to stop the itching,” Sakamoto explains upon seeing Mishima’s confused face.

Now that he’s mentioned it, Mishima was feeling pretty itchy. He’s not sure when or for how long, but he realized he’s been scratching himself absentmindedly for a while now.

“Um…thanks,” Mishima says quietly, giving Sakamoto a shy smile.

“No problem.” Sakamoto gives a lop-sided grin in return. “The sun ain’t gentle on my skin, either—”

_BANG! BANG!_

Both teens flinch at the sound.

“Jeez, who is it at this hour?” Sakamoto grumbles, motioning to Mishima to sit back down. “I’m closer to the door, so I’ll get it,” he tells him, getting up from the couch.

 _BANG!_ _BANG!_

“Hold your horses, I’m comin’!”

Sakamoto swings the door open, ready to yell at this jerk banging the door like some maniac. Instead, he stands there in shock.

“Ann?! What are you doing here?!”

“Wha—Ryuji?! What are _you_ doing here? This isn’t your room.”

Sakamoto leans on the door and shrugs. “My roommate brought his dumb girlfriend over. It was too awkward, so I left.”

Takamaki sighs. “Same here. My roommate took off to her boyfriend’s room with our room key. And now I’m locked out.”

Sakamoto winces. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

Takamaki then steps into the room and plops down on one of the beds. Her eyes land on Mishima rubbing some ointment on his pink skin.

“You get sunburnt easily, huh?” she says sympathetically. “Just like Ryuji.”

Mishima just sighs. “Yeah.”

“You know what can help cheer you up? Chocolate! Want some?”

“Oh, um, sure.” Mishima holds out his hand, and Takamaki pours a couple of Hershey’s kisses onto it.

“Hey, I want some, too!” Sakamoto pipes up.

“Yeah, yeah, you can have some, too.”

“Hey, so where’s Akira? Isn’t he sharing this room with you?” Takamaki asks, turning her attention back on Mishima.

“Oh, he’s just taking a sho—”

Just then, Kurusu steps out the bathroom with only a thinly-wrapped towel around his hips.

Takamaki shrieks and throws a pillow at him. “You’re so shameless!” she admonishes him, but there’s a hint of laughter in her voice.

“You’re the one eyeballin’ him—”

“Shut up, Ryuji!” Takamaki lobs a pillow at him, too. It hits him right in the face and sends him backward onto the couch.

“Wha—? Ann?” Kurusu catches the pillow aimed at him, confusion written all over his face. “What are you doing here??”

“Roommate problems,” she answers him curtly. “Now go put on some clothes!!” She throws another pillow at him.

“Alright, alright! I will, just stop throwing stuff at me!” Kurusu laughs, heading over to his suitcase.

Mishima tries not to stare, but he can’t help but take quick peeks at Kurusu’s, well, mostly-exposed body.

 _He_ _definitely_ _works_ _out_ , Mishima thinks to himself, hungrily tracing the outline of Kurusu’s body, all his little dips and curves, with his eyes.

He’s working on outlining the structure of Kurusu’s back muscles next when, suddenly, their eyes meet.

 _Shit_. Mishima quickly looks away and pretends to be super interested in his laptop. _Shit_ , _shit_ , _shit_.

Kurusu just grins.

“I’m going to go change now,” he loudly announces after a while of digging through his suitcase.

“You better,” Takamaki huffs. “Or you’re not getting any chocolate from me.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Ann.”

She makes a shooing motion at him. “Just _go_ already.”

Mishima feels the butterflies in his stomach turn into something else, something unpleasant.

 _They’re_ _so_ _close_ , Mishima thinks to himself, his head down.

Closer than he could ever be with Kurusu.

…

Kurusu comes out of the bathroom fully-dressed this time.

“Well, now that you’re finally out,” Takamaki says, throwing chocolates at Kurusu one at a time. (He catches every single one and takes a bow. Takamaki rolls her eyes. Sakamoto claps). “Let’s talk about sleeping arrangements.”

“Wait, hold up,” Sakamoto cuts in. “ _Sleeping_ arrangements? As in, you’re going to sleep _here?_ ”

“Yes, you idiot. What else could it mean?”

Sakamoto shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Mishima silently agrees. For more than the reason that this was a room full of boys.

Kurusu pops a chocolate in his mouth. “Ryuji’s right—you should go back.”

“Back to _where_ , exactly? I’m locked out my own room! Unless you want me to sleep outside on the cold, hard floor.”

Now it was Kurusu’s turn to roll his eyes. “You could just sleep over at Makoto’s room.”

Takamaki blushes. “You know I can’t,” she mumbles, looking away. “I’d die.”

“Fiiine,” Kurusu says, leaning back on the couch. “You can sleep here.” He looks over at Mishima. “If that’s ok with you?”

“It’s fine with me,” Mishima answers, his words clipped and a fake smile plastered on his lips. _It_ _really_ _isn’t_.

Takamaki perks up. “Great!”

“Aww, man,” Sakamoto groans. “Now we have to fight over who gets the bed or the couch, and at least one of us is going to sleep on the floor.”

Kurusu waves a dismissive hand. “Nah, there’s no need for that. Me and Mishima will just share a bed.”

Mishima chokes on his chocolate. _What?!_

“Dude, what?” Sakamoto says, echoing Mishima’s shock.

Kurusu just shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, sharing a bed is better than sleeping on the floor.” He turns to look at Mishima again. “Right, Mishima?”

Mishima finally manages to swallow his chocolate. “R-right,” he answers in a weak voice.

“Then I get the other bed!” Takamaki shouts.

“What!” Sakamoto sputters, whipping his head to face her. “Ann, that’s not fair!”

“Ya snooze ya lose,” is all she says back, sticking out her tongue.

…

 _I’m_ _going_ _to_ _die_ , Mishima thinks as he climbs into bed. The very bed he’s sharing with Kurusu, who was already making himself comfortable.

Mishima tries desperately to calm his heart, his nerves, his everything. He gulps when he feels his foot brush against Kurusu’s leg.

They were just too damn close.

It was at this point that Sakamoto sighs loudly and dramatically. (Good. A distraction).

“Just great. I’m all the way in Hawaii,” he complains, “and I’m stuck sleeping on the frickin’ couch.”

“Hardship builds character,” Takamaki pipes up from under the bed covers.

“Shuddup, ya cheater.”

Takamaki grins. “Get over it already. At least you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“Hmph,” is all Sakamoto says.

“Aw, c’mon. If it makes you feel better, we can play a game.”

After a brief pause, Ryuji speaks up again. “What kind of game?”

“I don’t know…something like 20 questions? I’m not really sleepy.” She addresses Kurusu next. “What about you, Akira? Want in?”

“Sure, why not,” Kurusu answers, rolling over to face her. “I’m not sleepy, either.”

“And you Mishima?”

“Oh.” Mishima hadn’t expected Takamaki to ask him to join, too. “Um, sure, I’ll play.”

“Great!” Takamaki chirps. “Ok, the first question is ‘What’s your type?’ and Ryuji will be the first one to answer it!”

“Me?!”

“Yeah, so hurry up and answer already!” Takamaki urges him. “There’s three other people we have to get to, including me!”

“Alright, alright. I’ll answer, jeez. Let’s see…” He pauses here for a little bit. “Well, right now, I’m really liking this tall, skinny dork with a difficult personality…but usually I like ‘em full-figured and modest.”

“A tall, skinny dork, huh?” Takamaki echoes, a knowing smile on her face.

“I wonder who could it be~?” Kurusu sings-songs.

“Shuddup, you two!” Sakamoto hisses, throwing couch cushions at them. They just laugh.

Huh. Judging by their reactions, it must be someone they all know, Mishima notes with amusement.

“Ok, ok,” Takamaki says, a bit breathless from laughing. “Let’s move on to the next person. Akira, you’re up.”

Mishima’s interest instantly perks up and becomes focused. Without a doubt, this was one answer Mishima was going to pay veeery close attention to.

“Hmm, ok.” Kurusu rolls onto his back, his arms cradling his head. “I don’t have a type.”

“Aww, dude. That’s lame,” Sakamoto groans.

“Suuuper lame,” Takamaki boos.

Mishima agrees wholeheartedly. “That’s not really an answer,” he quietly adds.

“Yeah, you tell ‘im, Mishima!” Takamaki cheers.

“Even you’re booing me, Mishima?” Kurusu pouts, his eyes smiling.

It makes Mishima’s heart flutter.

“C’mon, Akira, fess up,” Sakamoto urges him. “It’s not fair if I did, but you don’t.”

“Jeez, I’m telling the truth. But fine. I’ll give you a juicy little tidbit—information about my crush.”

And now Mishima’s heart feels deflated and drenched in freezing water.

Takamaki props herself on her elbow, evidently interested. “Oooh. Do tell.”

“They’re kinda short and have surprisingly thick thighs. They’re usually a little meek, but can become really bubbly and assertive whenever their obsession becomes the topic of the discussion. Oh, and they suck at water gun fights.”

“Aaah. I’m stumped,” Takamaki groans, letting her arm fall flat and her face plop back against her pillow.

“Me too,” Sakamoto agrees. “That last part seemed so random.”

“Hmm,” is Kurusu’s response.

Meanwhile, Mishima is feeling pretty listless. _He_ _has a crush already…That means…I’ve got no chance._

Not like Mishima had much of a chance in the first place, though.

Who could ever like someone like…like _him?_ He was so boring and plain.

“Mishima?”

Ah, it was Takamaki. Maybe it was his turn to confess now. But he really didn’t feel like it, not when he was hurting so much.

“Mishima, are you okay?”

No. No, he wasn’t. He was feeling pretty damn miserable.

“I…need to step out for a bit,” he mumbles, getting up from his (shared) bed.

“Huh? Dude, for what?” Sakamoto asks, confused. “It’s one in the morning. There’s nothing to _do_ outside at this hour.”

“I just…can’t be here right now, ok?”

And with that, Mishima quickly heads over to the door and makes his escape.

…

Uuuugh. He’s such an idiot.

Why did he have to go and make a scene?? Why couldn’t he just move on with the game??

So what if Kurusu liked someone else…Mishima already knew from the beginning that his crush on him was one-sided and impossible.

Now he’s sitting in one of the lobby lounge sofas, looking and feeling like a complete idiot.

Uuuuugh. He lets his face fall into his hands. Would it be too awkward if he went back, or…?

“Mishima.”

He flinches.

It’s Kurusu.

“Yes…?” He doesn’t dare look up.

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

“Go ahead.” Mishima scoots over a bit, allowing Kurusu room to squeeze in.

“So…” Kurusu turns to look at Mishima. Or, whatever he can see of Mishima, since the boy’s hands were still covering his face. “I’m guessing I’m the reason you left?”

A pause. But then, Mishima nods.

Kurusu sighs. “I knew it. Look, Mishima…it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable. I should have kept my mouth shut, I’m sorry…if it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

What??

“It’s just…I really like you. But if my feelings make you uncomfortable, I’ll dump them quickly, ok? You’re important to me, and I wouldn’t want to lose you over something so stu—”

“Wait, hold up,” Mishima cuts in, hands off his face. “Kurusu, what are you even talking about??”

“What do you mean what am I talking about?? Isn’t it clear that I’m talking about how my crush on you is making you uncomfortable…?”

“ _You_ have a crush on _me_?? But I thought…”

Kurusu puts up a hand. “Wait, now _you_ hold up. Did you really think my confession earlier was about someone else??”

“It… _wasn’t_ about someone else?”

Kurusu just stares at him. “I thought it was pretty obvious I was talking about _you_.”

“It wasn’t obvious!”

“Yes it was!” Akira snaps back and starts to count things off with his fingers. “You’re slightly shorter than me, you become really excited and pushy whenever the Phantom Thieves come up as a topic, and I totally kicked your ass yesterday in our water gun fight.”

“But…but…I don’t have thick thighs…”

“Mishima have you even _seen_ your thighs? They’re _pretty_ thick.”

Mishima doesn’t know what to even say anymore. He’s in shock over everything.

But it looks like Kurusu isn’t finished. “Wait, if you left because you thought I was crushing on someone else, does that mean you…?”

“…Yeah.” Mishima buries his face in his hands again. “I…ike…ou…”

“Hey, I can’t hear you,” Kurusu complains, trying to gently pry off Mishima’s hands from his face. “Say it again.”

Mishima groans and reluctantly lets Kurusu take his hands away from his face. “I said,’Ilikeyou,’okay?!” the blue-haired teen nervously shouts, his face burning and his words jumbling together.

“A little slower this time,” Kurusu says with a teasing grin and a firm, squeezing grip on the phanboy’s hands.

Mishima squints at him. _This_ _little_ … _he totally heard me!_

But still, Mishima indulges him.

“Fine,” he grumbles.

Taking a deep breath, he wills himself to look Kurusu in the eyes. _Oh_ , _he_ _has_ _nice_ _eyes_ … _Wait_ , _don’t_ _get_ _distracted_.

“I _said_ I. Like. You.” Mishima chokes on the words a little (he never thought he’d say it out loud), but he did it. He actually said them.

And since he’s looking directly at Kurusu, Mishima sees first-hand the goofy smile taking over Kurusu’s face and the happy blush staining his cheeks.

Kurusu releases his grip on Mishima’s left hand and moves his freed hand to cup Mishima’s cheek.

“Mishima.” He starts stroking Mishima’s cheek with his thumb, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

Mishima feels his face quickly heat up. Not trusting himself to _not_ get tongue-tied, he just nods.

Their first kiss tastes like chocolate.

…

“Where have you two been?!” Takamaki demands, fists firmly planted on her hips.

“Ann, you’re blocking the doorway, and it’s cold in this hallway. Please let us in.”

Reluctantly, Takamaki steps away from the door.

“No, but really. Do you realize that you’ve been gone for _over_ _an_ _hour_?” she nags, falling in step behind them. “I was worried about you guys!”

“We’re _fiiiiine_ , Ann,” Kurusu says with a dismissive hand. “You’re such a mom sometimes.”

“Well, _excuuuuse_ me for caring!”

“Ugh, Ann,” Sakamoto groans from under a couch pillow. “Can ya shutup already? I’m tryin’ to sleep here.”

Takamaki kicks him. “I see that you’re just _sick_ with worry.”

Sakamoto rolls away from Takamaki. “I didn’t _hafta_ worry ‘cause Akira was there. He can take care of things.”

“Hmph.”

“Um, let’s just sleep for now…?” Mishima’s not really sure how to talk to Takamaki. Especially right now, when she seemed so much like a raging bull.

Takamaki whips her head around to look at him. “Mishima…are you really okay now? You looked so miserable when you ran off…” she asks him in a soft voice. “If I did anything to make you uncomfortable, then I’m really sorry!”

Damn it, he hadn’t meant to worry her so much.

“Ah, no, you didn’t do anything!” Mishima quickly responds, his arms waving about frantically. “It was all my fault! But, don’t worry. I’m okay now. Really.”

“More than okay,” Kurusu can’t help but add.

“ _Shut_ _up_ ,” Mishima hisses through clenched teeth. And then he elbows Kurusu in the stomach for good measure. Kurusu winces.

Takamaki raises an eyebrow at that. But she lets it go (for now, at least).

“Well, as long you’re ok…” Takamaki flops back onto her bed and buries her face into a pillow. When she next speaks, her voice comes out muffled. “We have to wake up early tomorrow, so let’s just sleep now.”

“Frickin’ finally,” Sakamoto mutters.

Takamaki affectionately throws a pillow at his head.

…

Mishima’s busy brushing his teeth and dressing out of his pajamas, but his mind’s somewhere else.

Namely, he’s busy reliving last night. Or morning. Whatever you want to call it.

Jeez, Kurusu was so _shameless_. The second he thought Takamaki was fast asleep (via her snores), he shifted closer to Mishima, burying his face into the blue-haired teen’s neck and wrapping his arms around him.

“You smell good,” he had whispered. “Really good.”

“Go to sleep,” was Mishima’s response.

“You’re so cruel… _Yuuki_.”

Kurusu using Mishima’s first name had killed the poor boy right then and there.

Still, it made him really happy that Kurusu had called him by his first name. And, if Mishima was being honest, the cuddling felt nice. Really nice.

Suddenly, a knock on the bathroom door pulled Mishima out of his daydream.

“Yuuki?” a familiar voice asks. (It was Kuru—wait, no. _Akira_ ).

“Ah, sorry, I’ll be done in a bit.”

Mishima hurries to finish and then scrambles out the door. He mumbles out a quick apology to Sakamoto (his roommate had let his girlfriend sleep over, and Sakamoto was having none of that, so he quickly came back to Mishima and Akira’s room). The blonde teen shrugs his shoulders, tells Mishima it isn’t a big deal, and slips into the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Akira’s trying to wake up Takamaki (whose roommate seemed to have decided to also stay over at her boyfriend’s place, effectively shutting Takamaki out from their shared hotel room).

“Uuugh, five more minutes,” she groans from under the covers.

“You said that five minutes ago!” Akira starts pulling on the bed covers. “Hurry up before Makoto comes up here and yells at us!”

Takamaki doesn’t budge.

“Or maybe I should take a picture of you in all your messy glory, complete with bed hair and drool, and show it to her instead, hmm?”

“I’m up, I’m up!”

Mishima quietly laughs behind his hand.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you laughing, Mishima!” Takamaki shouts before heading over to the bathroom door to bang on it. “Ryuji, hurry up already!”

“I’ve only been in for five minutes!”

“Five minutes is enough for you!”

Akira plops onto the bed next to Mishima and sighs.

Mishima smiles. “What a lively morning.”

Akira rolls his eyes. “ _Too_ lively, in my opinion.”

“I think it’s nice,” Mishima admits shyly. “It makes me feel…like I’m part of something? Like, I’m not so… _alone_ , you know?”

Akira stares at him.

Mishima starts feeling self-conscious. “What?”

“Nothing.”

But then Akira hugs him tightly.

“I’ll make as much noise you want,” he whispers. “When we’re hanging out, when you’re on the PhanSite ignoring me, when I’m busy spoiling you, when we’re doing naughty stu—”

“ _Ohmygod_ ,” Mishima cuts in, eyeing Takamaki. “Please shut up now.” But he’s smiling.

Mishima wasn’t expecting their trip to Hawaii to turn out this way…but he’s glad it did.

And now his trip back to Japan will be just as amazing, what with the definite possibility that Akira was going to shamelessly touch Mishima every chance he got from here to the plane.


End file.
